It took me years to understand myself. People rejected me at a very young age. Sure I have scars like any other my age, but I’m also differently wired.
When People Disgust Me
Confession of a misanthrope artist, are you ready for it? Let’s dive in! At a young age, I couldn’t stand how people close to me, except for my grandpa, would remove a stain from my face or simply wash my hands. I did not like the contact. As I grew older, I thought it was merely a case of germaphobia.
But, I understood that it wasn’t just the passing of germs and bacteria but the unnecessary touch. I couldn’t process why someone would do that as I would prefer learning and mimicking, so I could do it myself.
A year or so ago, I wrote an article about people that can reveal themselves as toxic in one’s life. It is hard to draw a line between ourselves and others we consider friends. Then this happened to me.
*** UPDATES: After the results of 23andMe I am only 2.9% Native American on my paternal side. Meaning my grandfather’s lineage is solely French and Spaniard resulting in an error that occurred fifty years ago having his family believe they were Mohawk. But, this doesn’t change any of my views on the matter of defending Native American rights. ***
Circles of Hell
I do not enjoy talking about myself or my life. I like to keep my privacy within my house walls and a relatively tight circle of people. It is hard for me to accept what my life became and where I am heading. When blood is thinner than water it hurts my very life.
With that said, and this is where it gets trickier for me. I do not believe in a “higher purpose” or that “everything happens for a reason.” I do not think we are born with a predestined path to follow.